


Always Shaken, Never Stirred

by sonata_de_morte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonata_de_morte/pseuds/sonata_de_morte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of connected drabbles exploring what you get when you take one Boy Who Lived, add alcohol and a liberal dash of strangeness to taste, then throw in leggy blondes in short skirts and shake until well combined. Updates daily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A new story while I'm stalled on my others. This one is already half written and will update every day until complete. No major warnings to speak of, except for the usual amount of porn that you can expect from this pairing and a healthy dose of crossdressing.

Harry returned from the bathroom and slid back into the booth he was sharing with Ron at the Lucky Knut, a pub that had opened recently in Diagon Alley. He was on his dinner break and catching up with Ron who he hadn’t seen in over a week. The ginger was staring with wide eyes at something over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry waved his hand in his friend’s face to reclaim his attention.   
  
“You alright, mate?” he asked.    
  
Ron blinked and looked at Harry. “What?”    
  
“What were you staring at?”   
  
"Promise you won’t tell Mione?”    
  
Now Harry was really interested. “Sure, of course.”    
  
Ron looked around as if to make sure that he wouldn’t be overheard. “There’s this blond woman at the table over there, and she’s...” he shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s beautiful.”    
  
"I didn’t think you went for blondes.”   
  
“I don’t usually, but...just wait a minute, and then look at her, Harry.”    
  
Harry chuckled, but did as instructed. He counted to thirty under his breath and then casually turned his head. Harry could only see her profile, but it was striking. Somehow she managed to look strong and delicate at the same time. Her face was pale and fine boned, with high cheek bones and a slightly pointed chin. Blond hair fell over her shoulders and graceful fingers reached up to tuck a chunk of it behind an ear. She was clad in a knee length red skirt and a dark grey sweater, and her legs were crossed, showing off dark grey boots. The woman was alone at her table, eating a sandwich and reading a thick book that she seemed engrossed in. There was something familiar about her that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on.    
  
Ron cleared his throat after a while and Harry realized he was still staring. When he turned back to his friend, Ron was giving him a shrewd look. “Are you sure you’re gay?” he asked.    
  
Harry rolled his eyes because they had this conversation at least once a month. “Bisexual, Ron,” he answered as he always did.   
  
“You say that,” Ron replied, “but it’s been ages since you’ve been out with a woman.”    
  
Harry shrugged. “I just haven’t found one I like in a while.” It was true. Women tended to bore Harry after a while. Especially the ones that his friends kept setting him up with. They were all too simpering, too concerned with Harry’s fame and what places they could be seen with him. He hadn’t met a woman who could give him a challenge since...well, since Ginny.   
  
On the other hand, it had been some time since he had found a man that he was really interested in as well.    
  
“Ask her out,” Ron was saying.   
  
Harry frowned. “Who?”    
  
“The blond,” his friend hissed. “I can’t because I’m engaged, and er...because I love Hermione very much, but there’s no reason why  _ you  _ can’t.”    
  
"Ron, there is no way I’m going to ask that woman out. She’s...”    
  
“ _Beautiful,_ ”  Ron enthused. “And smart. She’s reading a book.”    
  
“Just because someone’s reading a book doesn’t mean they’re smart.  _ You _ read after all.”   
  
Ron threw his napkin at Harry. “Shut up. C’mon, mate. You need someone.”    
  
“I’m fine on my own right now,” Harry argued. And he was. So it had been nearly seven months since he’d been out with anyone. That wasn’t a bad thing. He was busy. Five years had passed since Voldemort’s defeat, and Harry had finally found something that interested him. It had come as a surprise to everyone that he’d decided not to become an Auror, but as Harry saw it, he had already spent so much of his life hunting down evil wizards and he wanted to do something else. Several professional Quidditch teams had recruited him, both because he was a damned fine player, and because having  _ Harry Potter  _ on the team was a feather in anyone’s cap. But Harry had declined all of those offers too. For two years he sat in Grimmauld Place trying to figure out what it was he wanted to do.    
  
Instead of moping, he started reading. He had picked up a book on making cocktails both magical and Muggle and had fallen in love. Luna, who had inherited a fair amount of money when her father died, had recently opened a bar in Diagon Alley to people’s surprise. She ran an interesting place that offered food, dancing, and a full bar and did good business. Of course that business had tripled when word got out that Harry Potter would be tending bar.   
  
Between the time he spent reading, being at the bar with Luna, he barely had time to think about being alone or doing anything to change it.    
  
Ron didn’t believe him though, and while he knew his friend was only trying to help, he found it a tad bit annoying. Harry functioned just fine on his own, thank you very much.    
  
Before the other man could try to persuade Harry to talk to the lovely blond, she had dropped a few Galleons on her table and was walking out of the pub.    
  
“It’s just as well,” Ron said with a sigh. “She didn’t look all that friendly.”    
  
Harry shook his head and tried to shake the feeling that he knew that woman from somewhere. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The end of dinner saw Harry bidding Ron farewell as his friend walked to the nearest Apparition point to head back to the Ministry to finish some paperwork. Ron had gone into the Auror program was doing quite well. Harry was proud of him, but didn’t envy him in the slightest.    
  
He shoved his hands into his pockets and decided to make the ten minute walk back to the bar instead of Apparating. It was September, and still warm enough that walking through the crowded streets was pleasant.    
  
The bar Luna owned was simply called  _ Curiosities,  _ and Harry thought that was a very apt name. The place was decorated with strange antique trinkets that Luna had acquired from who knows where and attracted all kinds of people. It boasted a full bar and a kitchen that served up different foods depending on the night.    
  
When he entered after his dinner with Ron, Luna was behind the bar, her long hair twisted into a bun and held in place with two quills speared through it. She had glasses perched on her nose and she was pouring over a dusty book, murmuring to herself. They didn’t open to the public for another half hour, so Harry went to start getting everything ready.   
  
“How was dinner?” Luna asked without looking up as he walked in.   
  
“It was good. Nice to see Ron.”    
  
“Mmm,” Luna replied absently. “Did anything interesting happen?”    
  
Harry grinned because Luna asked him this question everyday. Usually he didn’t have anything to report, but today was different. After all, Ron had only made him promise not to tell Hermione. “Well, there was a woman at The Lucky Knut, that caught Ron’s eye.”    
  
Luna looked up at Harry over her glasses. “That’s healthy,” he said. “It’s good for him to look at other women before he marries Hermione.”    
  
Harry laughed at that. “Don’t let 'Mione hear you say that,” he cautioned. “I don’t think she would agree with you.”   
  
“She rarely does.”    
  
That was certainly true. “Was this woman special?” Luna wanted to know.    
  
Harry leaned against the counter. “She was gorgeous,” he answered. “Blond, leggy. Ron suggested I ask her out. Well, after I reminded him that I do still like women too.”    
  
“So why didn’t you?”    
  
“How do you know I didn’t?”    
  
Luna just gave him a tranquil look that said more than her words ever could.    
  
“Alright, alright. Fine. I didn’t ask her out,” Harry conceded. “I don’t know, she just didn’t seem like she would be my type. She was  _ too  _ beautiful, you know?”    
  
“You do tend to like your women more on the athletic side,” Luna said.    
  
“I do, but that wasn’t it. She was willowy, but there was muscle there so she probably works out. I guess I just...couldn’t see her standing next to me and looking like she  _ fit. _ ”   
  
Luna smiled at him. “You never know, Harry. You of all people know better than to judge people based on first impressions.”   
  
“Yeah, but, I’ll probably never even see her again.”    
  
The woman gave him a serene smile. “You never know,” she repeated.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next week was incredibly busy for Harry, and he didn’t even have time to think about the blond woman. He had three ‘Our Kids Have Gone Back to Hogwarts’ parties to bartend for, and Andromeda was ill, so Harry had taken Teddy during the day for the weekend. The boy was a precocious and rambunctious six year old who would got into all kinds of trouble when left to his own devices. Having him in Grimmauld Place, which was still not completely Dark Magic free, was not the best idea, as Harry figured out the third time he had to rescue the boy from some sinister piece of furniture. Finally he put a locking spell on the attic, cursing himself for not thinking of that earlier.   
  
By the time Teddy had gone back to Andromeda’s, Harry was completely knackered and fairly certain he was coming down with something. Of course when he went to his potions cabinet, he found he was completely out of Pepper Up, and he was too tired to even think about brewing more. He wasn’t nearly as bad at Potions as he used to be. Learning how to cook, and acquiring a healthy dose of patience had helped him greatly in that department. Still, he was likely to make mistakes when he was tired, so he pulled on a jacket and prepared to Apparate to his preferred Potions supplier in Diagon Alley.   
  
The shop was quiet when he walked in, and William, the owner, nodded to him. “Doing all right, Mr. Potter?” he asked.    
  
Harry gave him a half smile. “Nearly asleep on my feet and I think I caught a cold from a six year old. But other than that, no complaints.”   
  
William winced in sympathy. “Children are like that, Mr. Potter. It’s why I don’t bother with them myself.”    
  
“Fair enough. I’m just going to get some Pepper Up, and maybe a few other things I haven’t had time to brew.”   
  
“Very good, Mr. Potter. I’ll be in the back. Just give us a holler when you’re ready to purchase.”    
  
Harry nodded and began to peruse the shelves as William went behind the curtain that sectioned off the back of the store. He grabbed a basket from the stack near the door and slipped five flasks of Pepper Up inside. He was debating buying more Hangover potion when the bell above the door chimed merrily    
  
Harry turned to see the new patron and his eyes widened.    
  
“Malfoy?” the name was out of his mouth before he could think about it. It had been ages since he had seen Draco Malfoy. From what he understood, Narcissa had sent him to France once his name had been cleared after the war. Apparently he had been doing something related to Potions because he now worked as a consultant for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He always knew when Ron had to work with him because he spent the next few days muttering about ‘pale, pointed ferrets’.   
  
The blond looked good though, Harry had to admit. He was still tall and lean, though he had added a bit more muscle than he’d had back at school. The most noticeable difference was his hair though. Where it had once been short and usually slicked back, it was now long, down to the middle of his back. It made his slightly pointed face look softer somehow, and Harry found that he liked the difference.   
  
Grey eyes bugged and Malfoy cleared his throat. “Well, well. Hello, Potter. William in?”    
  
Harry nodded. “He’s in the back. I didn’t know you shopped here.”    
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “And my shopping habits are your business, how?”    
  
That brought a flush to Harry’s cheeks. “I just meant that I’m here a lot and I’ve never seen you.”    
  
“Looking for me, Potter? I’m flattered.” Malfoy pushed a lock of his hair behind an ear and moved to scrutinize a glass case of different ingredients.    
  
Harry couldn’t help himself. He stared at Malfoy’s back, or more specifically at the white blond hair that spilled down it. Lucius had had long hair, but his son’s was much more well kept. It was brighter and seemed to have a bit of a curl at the end. He had an instant flashback to the woman he and Ron had seen at the pub, but then shook his head. There were plenty of blond people in London.   
  
“You’re staring at me, Potter,” Malfoy drawled without turning around. “Surely you don’t think I’m up to something here and now. Give me a little credit for growing up.”    
  
His tone was light, but Harry could hear the bitterness in his words. “No,” he rushed to assure him. “It’s just...your hair.”   
  
Malfoy turned back around and gave Harry a look that was almost a smile. “Yes, it is a bit long, isn’t it? It’s terribly impractical, but I like it.”    
  
“It’s nice. Different, but it suits you.”    
  
“Thank you,” Malfoy said, surprise evident. “You know, it really is better to brew than to buy,” he continued, nodding at Harry’s basket.   
  
“I know,” Harry responded. “But I haven’t had time lately to make more, and I can already feel myself coming down with something.”    
  
“You brew?”    
  
Harry nodded. “Shocking, I know. But once I grew up a little, I realized I wasn’t as bad at it as I thought.”    
  
Malfoy did smile then. “Apparently things change more than I would have thought.”    
  
“Apparently. I mean, here we are having a civil conversation.”    
  
“A good point. It certainly beats the first time I saw Weasley again at the Ministry. The first word out his mouth to me began with an ‘F’ and it wasn’t anything so mature as ‘fuck’.”   
  
Harry chuckled. “Believe it or not,  _ he’s _ grown up too.”    
  
“I can see that,” Malfoy replied. “He just doesn’t like me. But then you don’t either.”    
  
Before Harry could reply, William had come back to the counter. “Oh hello, Draco,” he greeted the blond. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Are you ready, Mr. Potter?”    
  
Harry gave the older man a wry look. “Oh  _ he _ gets called by his first name?” he said. “I’ve been asking you to call me Harry for two years.”    
  
William chuckled. “For all intents and purposes, Draco and I are colleagues, Mr. Potter.” He held his hand out for Harry’s basket.   
  
Harry handed it over and rolled his eyes. “I’m not giving up, William.”    
  
Malfoy snorted. “Well there’s one thing that  _ hasn’t  _ changed. You never did know when to leave well enough alone.”  
  
Harry handed over his money and accepted his flasks, shrinking them down and placing them in his jacket pocket. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn that, Malfoy,” he said.   
  



	4. Chapter 4

When Harry walked into Curiosities on Monday night, he felt better for having taken the potion, store bought or not.    
  
Luna smiled at him. “Good weekend, Harry?”    
  
“ Busy,” he answered. “I had Teddy, and I barely avoided getting sick.” He rocked back on his heels, waiting for next question.   
  
“ Did anything interesting happen?”   
  
Harry grinned. “Well, I discovered that there is a toilet on the third floor of my house that apparently hates children, and I ran into Malfoy.”    
  
Luna raised an eyebrow. “In the same instance?”    
  
“ No, that would have been too weird. I was over at William’s shop getting some potions I haven’t had time to brew and Malfoy walked in.”    
  
“ Oh. Yes, that seems more probable. How is Malfoy?”    
  
“ He seems alright. More pleasant than he used to be at any rate,” Harry said. “We actually managed to have an entire conversation with no insults and only minimal sarcasm.”   
  
“ Are you two going to be friends now?” Luna wanted to know.   
  
Harry laughed. “I doubt it, Luna. Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen him in about five years. It could be another five years before I see him again.”    
  
“ I don’t think fate will work that way, Harry,” Luna returned.    
  
Harry shrugged and headed behind the bar, smiling at the sounds of food cooking in the back. “We’ll see I guess.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I really have to start listening to Luna,” Harry murmured as he walked into The Lucky Knut a few days later. He was alone this time, just popping in to have a quick bite to eat before he headed to the store to get actual food for his house before he had to head to Curiosities.   
  
Sitting at a table not far from the entrance was the blond woman from before. He assumed that she was something of a regular here since she looked quite comfortable. She was busy reading another book, this time making notes as she read.   
  
Harry could hear Luna’s voice in his head, talking about fate and how he shouldn’t let this moment pass. He was debating the merits of going over and saying something, when he realized that there was something familiar about the way this woman held herself. His brows furrowed as he tried to place it when the blond looked up and Harry’s jaw dropped.   
  
There were differences of course. Somehow the face was more feminine than Harry remembered, but there was no doubt that the gorgeous blond woman was either Draco Malfoy’s twin sister, or the man himself in drag.  
  
Grey eyes met his green ones across the pub, and the pale face went even paler. Malfoy sighed in resignation, but raised an eyebrow in challenge. Harry could hear that bloody posh accent in his head.  _Scared, Potter?_  
  
He wasn’t. Just absurdly curious.  
  
So he walked over to Malfoy’s table and dropped into the seat across from him. “Er...hi,” he greeted.   
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to join a lady uninvited?”  
  
“Nope. You can add that to all the other etiquette lessons I’ve missed. What are you  _doing_?”   
  
“I was having an early dinner last I checked.”  
  
Harry scowled at him. “You know what I mean.”   
  
“I do,” Malfoy said with a sigh. “I just don’t see how it’s any of your business. If I promise you that it’s not related to anything sinister will you leave me alone?”  
  
“Why do you keep saying that?” Harry demanded. “I haven’t accused you of anything.”   
  
“Yet.”   
  
“I don’t plan to,” Harry fired back. “I do realize that you’re a different person now.” He let his eyes sweep over Malfoy’s outfit. A black skirt with a dark green silk shirt this time. “It’s pretty obvious.”   
  
“Oh shut up,” the blond said irritably. “I’ve been doing this for almost two years with no mishaps, and of course the first person to find me out is Harry sodding Potter. Of course. Is this some kind of karmic retribution for being an arse to you at school? If I apologize will you leave me alone?”   
  
Harry flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw. Malfoy in a skirt was still an obnoxious git it seemed. No matter how pretty he was. “Look, if you want me to leave you alone, I will, okay?” He made to get up out of the chair.  
  
“Wait,” Malfoy said. “You’re not...you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”   
  
“Why would I?”   
  
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Revenge?”   
  
“I’m not going to say anything.”   
  
“Not even to Weasley and Granger?”   
  
“No. Not to them either.” Harry looked around and then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I understand about secrets, Malfoy. And about wanting to be a different person even if just for a little while. I don’t know if that’s why you do this, but then, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell anyone, and if you want, you can forget this ever happened.”   
  
“Fat chance of that happening,” Malfoy muttered. 


	6. Chapter 6

“God. Fucking Malfoy,” Harry muttered. It was after four in the morning, and he was lying in bed unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he thought about the stupid blond git. He thought about him in skirts, in trousers, in nothing at all. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t even like the bastard; so why was he losing sleep over him? Why couldn’t he stop envisioning how the subtle makeup Malfoy had been wearing made his already remarkable features stand out that much more? Or how long and graceful those legs had looked?  
  
This was just like school all over again, except this time around, the only thing Malfoy was doing was being too attractive for his own damned good.  
  
Once it was closing in on five in the morning, Harry gave up on sleep and padded down to his kitchen. Whenever he was stressed or upset, he cooked. He could lose himself in the craft, and that was one of the things he loved about it.   
  
He liked to make elaborate meals when he had the time, so that when he got home from his shifts at Curiosities at nearly four in the morning, he had something to eat.   
  
Harry allowed himself to sink into the soothing actions, humming under his breath as he worked. He lost track of time, and it was gone eight in the morning by the time he had made a Shepherd’s Pie and wrapped it up.  
  
There was an insistent tapping noise coming from his sitting room, and Harry frowned, tossing the rag he had been cleaning with on the counter and going to see what the noise was.  
  
A large eagle owl was tapping its beak repeatedly against the large window in the room, and Harry let it in with confusion. He had never seen the bird before, but it was magnificent. He stroked its head as he removed the roll of parchment that was tied to its leg.  
  
He unrolled it to see unfamiliar cursive.   
  
_Potter_ ,  it said.  
  
 _I wanted to apologize for how I acted towards you the other day at the pub. You did nothing to warrant my behavior, I was just defensive because no one, other than a close few, knows that I do what you caught me doing. Of course you’re always catching me at things, so I don’t know why I didn’t expect it, but I digress.  
  
I find myself in the strange position of being curious about you how you’ve changed since school. I would more than understand if you did not, but I was wondering if you would like to join me for a drink or a meal at some point in the coming week. To catch up or whatever it is people do when they haven’t seen each other in years. My schedule is fairly clear, but I hear from reliable sources that yours is often quite packed. _ _  
  
If you’ll send Ares back with a reply, I’m certain we can work out a time to meet. If you want to, that is._ _  
  
D. Malfoy_   
  
Harry gaped at the letter and then read it a second time. It was an apology. From Malfoy. And an invitation to dinner. From Malfoy. He shook his head and wondered when the world had turned itself arse over tit. Still, he hunted down a self inking quill and some parchment and penned a reply.  
  
 _Malfoy,  
  
You don’t really have to apologize. Given our history, I’d have been on edge too if you found out some secret about me. I can make time for a lunch or early dinner this week if you’re game for that. I’ve got all of Tuesday free until 6 or so._ _  
  
HP_   
  
He tied the letter to Ares’ leg and send him on his way, shaking his head because, of course, Malfoy had named his owl after the Greek god of war. At least there were still some things about him that weren’t frighteningly surprising.


	7. Chapter 7

“What are you doing on Tuesday, mate?” Ron asked as he leaned against Harry’s kitchen table, watching him make notes of new cocktails he wanted to try at the bar.   
  
Harry frowned and looked over. “Are you going through my schedule?”   
  
Ron shrugged. “You left it open on the table here; it’s almost like you asked me to look at it. Tuesday’s circled. What’s happening on Tuesday?”    
  
Harry looked down at the book in his hands quickly, avoiding Ron’s eyes. “Er...I’m having lunch. With someone. I think.”   
  
“You think?”    
  
“Well we haven’t hammered all the details out yet.”    
  
“Is it a date? Harry Potter, do you have a date that you didn’t tell me about?”    
  
Harry blanched and stared at his best friend. “You know you sounded just like Hermione then, right?”    
  
“Bugger. You’re right,” Ron replied with a shudder. “But don’t change the subject. Do you or do you not have a date?”    
  
“No, I don’t,” Harry answered, shuffling his parchment. “It’s just a lunch to catch up with someone.”    
  
“Who?”    
  
“Malfoy,” Harry admitted.   
  
Ron laughed. “Right. Good one, Harry. Seriously, who?”    
  
“It’s Malfoy, Ron. I ran into him about a week ago and we got to talking.”    
  
“You got to talking?” Ron asked incredulously. “Harry, you and Malfoy don’t  talk.  You bait and hex and swear at each other.”    
  
“Well we did this time, and actually it wasn’t-” Harry broke off as something occurred to him. Ron had brought the blond woman, Malfoy, to Harry’s attention at The Lucky Knut because he thought she was beautiful. Ron had inadvertently spent a fair amount of time ogling Draco Malfoy.   
  
A laugh bubbled out of him and grew until he was clutching the counter, laughing so hard his sides hurt. Ron was staring at him in bafflement, brow furrowed.    
  
“Harry, I think you’ve lost the plot.”    
  
Harry shakes his head. “I haven’t. Life is just very strange right now.”   
  
“What do you want to catch up with the ferret for anyway?” Ron continued. “I told you that he’s still a smug bastard, so it’s not like anything’s changed.”    
  
“Sure it has,” Harry said with a hidden grin. “He looks a lot different.”    
  
“That’s just him showing off. He wants everyone to look at him. And I have to for the next three weeks or however long it takes us to solve this damned case he’s consulting with us on. I don’t know if I can last that long.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry flipped a bottle of vodka behind his back and caught it with his other hand before measuring some into a drink that he was making. He tapped the glass with his wand to turn the liquid a bright orange, before adding some flavoured liqueurs to it and a lime slice to the rim of the glass.   
  
He pushed his glasses up on his nose, head bobbing to the beat of the song playing through the speakers overhead and set the drink on the tray floating in front of him. The tray and the drink went over table 9, and a buxom redheaded woman lifted the glass and toasted him with a lascivious wink.  
  
Harry just nodded back to her, cheeks flushed. No matter how many times he got hit on in his line of work, it never stopped embarrassing him.  
  
A dry chuckle sounded from in front of him and he whipped his head around to see Draco Malfoy sitting on one of the stools. He gaped at the other man. “When did you even get here?” Harry asked because he had not even heard him come up to the bar.  
  
He was dressed as a man this time, or so Harry thought since he couldn’t see if Malfoy was wearing trousers or not. The pale grey jumper that he wore looked very nice of him though, and when he tucked a chunk of hair behind his ear, Harry could see that he had three silver studs in the cartilage there.   
  
“Just a moment ago,” Malfoy was saying. He looked around the bar with appraising eyes. “I’ve never actually been in here before.”   
  
Harry shot him a wry look. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. A bar run by Loony Lovegood and the Prat Who Lived doesn’t seem like a place you’d frequent.”   
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes at that. “You raise a good point, but it’s actually because I’m not really one for the bar scene. Not even one that features that Chosen Prat.” He tilted his head, looking at Harry quizzically. “You know, this is hardly the illustrious career I would have foreseen for you.”  
  
Three drink orders wrote themselves on the enchanted chalk board Harry had in front of him. There were boards like it on each table so all the patrons had to do was write down what they wanted and their table number and Harry would send it to them.  
  
Harry shrugged as he got the needed bottles and began mixing and measuring. “I didn’t really fancy doing any of those illustrious things people expected me to do. And I like working here. I’m good at it.” To demonstrate he tossed the silver shaker up into the air and then caught it with one hand, flipping it open to pour the mixed drink into a delicate glass.  
  
Malfoy arched an eyebrow as he watched Harry prepare to make another drink. “Well you always were good at showing off.”  
  
“I’m going to ignore that comment in favor of asking if you actually plan to order something,” Harry said.   
  
“Surprise me,” the blond drawled, turning his head to look at the other patrons.  
  
A grin slid over Harry’s face. “That’s putting an awful lot of trust in me, Malfoy,” he says. “You sure you want to do that?”  
  
Malfoy chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You’re Harry Potter, defender of the good and leader of the righteous and all that. You’re not going to poison me.”   
  
“No, but I might get you very drunk.”   
  
“You could,” Malfoy agreed in a low voice. “But to what end, I wonder.”   
  
Harry’s face went red then because if he didn’t know better he would have thought that Malfoy was...flirting with him.   
  
Kinda.   
  
Maybe.  
  
Either way he had drinks to make, so he finished the other two and sent the tray to its table.  
  
Grey eyes were alight with amusement as Malfoy looked at Harry. “You’re so easy to wind up. At least that hasn’t changed.”   
  
“Because so much else has?” Harry asked, turning to gather more alcohol to make Malfoy a drink.   
  
“About you? Certainly. You’re nothing like you used to be.”  
  
Harry blinked and flipped a bottle of green chartreuse, pouring a shot glass half full. “You’re one to talk,” he said, layering some Kahlua on top of the green liquid. “With your long hair and the piercings. I would never have expected that of you. The piercings.”   
  
Malfoy shrugged. “I like them. That’s all that matters to me.” His eyebrow arched as Harry slid the layered shot in front of him. “What is that?”   
  
“You said to surprise you. I’ll tell you after you drink it.”   
  
The blond rolled his eyes, but plucked the shot glass up with his long, elegant fingers. He smirked and toasted Harry before knocking the shot back. He had to tear his eyes away from the sight of that graceful neck and the way it looked when Malfoy swallowed. Still, Harry smiled a little when Malfoy’s eyes widened and he coughed, slamming the glass back down.   
  
“Circe’s left tit, Potter,” he gasped. “Are you trying to kill me?”   
  
“Not me, Malfoy. I’m the defender of good and the leader of the righteous, remember?”   
  
Malfoy made a rude gesture and shook his head to clear it. “Alright, I drank your vile concoction. What was it?”   
  
“Snake bite,” Harry said with a grin. “Seemed apropos.” He was having a hard time believing that he was at his job teasing Draco Malfoy. True, the malice from school seemed to have vanished over the years, but the last time they’d run into each other, they had not been quite so...chummy.   
  
He was startled from his thoughts by the arrival of new drink orders and the well endowed redhead from table 9 who walked by and winked at him again, dropping several Galleons in his tip jar and bidding him a good night in a sultry voice.   
  
Malfoy was having a hard time containing his laughter, but at least he waited until the woman had left before snickering out loud. “What is it with you and gingers?” he asked. “It’s almost as if you send out this beacon that attracts them.  
  
Harry stared at him in confusion for a moment before shaking his head and getting to work on his orders. “What are you on about, Malfoy?”   
  
“You and people with red hair,” the blond said slowly, as if Harry were someone with problems understanding simple words. “The entire Weasley family is under your thrall, so I was wondering if you emit some sort of scent or something that attracts them.”   
  
“You’re ridiculous,” Harry responded, pushing up his glasses and pouring a round of shots. “Can I ask you something?”   
  
Malfoy flipped his hair over one shoulder and shrugged. “I suppose so.”   
  
“What...that is...why are you being so...nice?” _Smooth, Potter. That didn’t sound offensive at all._  
  
To Harry’s great relief, Malfoy smiled a little. “I don’t actually know,” he answered, then paused. “Well...alright, I do know. It just sounds silly outside of my head.”   
  
Tapping the tray to send it on its way, Harry cocked his head at the blond. “Well now you have to tell me,” he insisted. “I’ve plied you with alcohol and everything.”   
  
“Silly Potter, it takes much more alcohol than that to get me to spill my secrets. But I’ll still tell you. I was thinking that we’re both incredibly different than the boys we were at school, so why shouldn’t we be able to start over?"  
  
Harry blinked. Why indeed?


	9. Chapter 9

On Tuesday, Harry walked into the Lucky Knut a few minutes before noon and spotted Malfoy at a table in the back. He was dressed in trousers and a jumper, with his hair pulled back into a ponytail that left his fringe framing his face and put the three studs in his left ear in clear view.    
  
“Punctual,” Malfoy said before Harry could greet him. “That scores you points.”    
  
Harry rolled his eyes and sat down across from him. “I didn’t know there was a points system,” he remarked dryly.    
  
“Of course there is. Why don’t you sleep during the day?”    
  
As far as Harry could tell, there was nothing that connected the two sentences Malfoy had just said. “What?” he asked intelligently.   
  
Malfoy smirked. “You work until the early hours of the morning, yes? So why aren’t you asleep?”    
  
“Oh. I sleep in a lot later than most people,” Harry explained. “But never past ten or so in the morning unless it’s been a hard night. Why do you ask?”    
  
“I’m curious about you,” Malfoy admitted with a shrug. “Hero turned bartender. It’s interesting.”    
  
“Not really,” Harry insisted, cheeks a little red. He still didn’t like being the focus of attention. “Why don’t we talk about what you do instead?”    
  
“Well, because you’ll have heard all about what I do from Weasley,” Malfoy replied. “I’m sure he regales you with stories from the Ministry.”   
  
Harry laughed. “I do get to hear a lot about how smarmy he thinks you are. You’re working on a case with him right now, aren’t you?”    
  
“Yes, much to Weasley’s delight. He gave me a particularly venomous glare right before I left earlier, so I take it he knows about this lunch.”    
  
Harry nodded. “Yeah. He’s being a bit ridiculous about the whole thing really.”   
  
Malfoy looked nonplussed. “Malfoys and Weasleys have hated each other since before either of us were born. I’m hardly bothered.”   
  
Harry snorted. Yes, it was fairly obvious that Malfoy wasn’t bothered. He looked like the picture of calm and content. “I don’t get you, Malfoy,” Harry admitted. “We probably could have lived our whole lives without having to talk to each other again, and even if we did run into each other, we’ve already proven we can be civil. You said you wanted to start over. What exactly does that mean?”    
  
To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy dropped his nonchalant air and sighed heavily. “Alright, Potter. It seems that honesty is the only thing that actually works with you, which figures since it’s one of the things that I’m the worst at. Do you want to know why I dress like a woman sometimes?”    
  
“Er...yes?” Harry replied, confused as to where this conversation was going.    
  
“Because I love it and it’s a break from the monotony my life has become. I go to work when they need me, I visit my mother every Sunday, and I spend a lot of time at home by myself trying to forget bad memories. When I can’t stand one more minute of it, I wander around in a skirt.”    
  
“What about your friends?”    
  
“Gone. Crabbe...well you know what happened to him. Pansy and Blaise got married and moved to Italy to live off of the Zabini fortune. Goyle fell into some bad things after Vince died. Last I heard he was going to rehab.”    
  
Harry blinked. He had never stopped to think about what had happened to the Slytherins after the war. He’d naturally assumed that they had gone back to being smug and wealthy somewhere. “Malfoy, I’m sorry.”    
  
The blond shrugged. “It isn’t your fault. No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. The truth is you saved my life, and one of the main reasons we weren’t friends back at school is because I was a right horrible prat. I like to think I’m better now.”    
  
It was all clear to Harry now. “Oh. So...you want to be friends now?”    
  
Malfoy looked away, but nodded, clearly uncomfortable.    
  
“Why?”   
  
“I don’t know. You came out of the war with all of your friends and most of your sanity, or so it seems. I think that you would actually be a good friend to have.”    
  
Harry let out a breath. Ever since the war, he had gotten a lot better at reading people, and he could tell that Malfoy was being sincere in this moment. He scratched at the mess of his hair and appraised the other man, thinking it over. Ron would have a fit, of course, but Hermione...she would probably understand. His other friends would probably trust his judgement on the matter. Harry smiled when he realized that he had already made up his mind. He held his hand out over the table, meeting Malfoy’s eyes.    
  
“Just like that?” Malfoy asked, surprised.   
  
Harry shrugged. “Why not?”    
  
With a small smile, Malfoy slid his hand into Harry’s and shook it.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione sat back on the couch, hands cradling a cup of tea as she listened to Harry tell her all about his lunch with Malfoy. It was Thursday, and Harry had stopped by as soon as he had woken up for the day, knowing it was Hermione’s day off and that Ron would be at work.    
  
She worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which had been reformed largely due to her influence. Now they worked with the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to make sure that Magical Creatures were well researched and taken care of if they needed to be brought into the Ministry for any reason.    
  
Now, Hermione lifted her teacup and took a sip before regarding her best friend with a shrewd look. “What do you want me to say, Harry?” she asked.   
  
“I don’t know. Do you think it was the right thing to do?”    
  
She smiled. “I think it was the Harry Potter thing to do. You’ve always done what you thought was right, and certainly there is no reason to suspect Malfoy of doing anything underhanded. He’s been on the up and up for years now.”    
  
“Tell that to Ron,” Harry said dryly. “I get the feeling that he’s not going to be pleased.”    
  
“No, he won’t. But it was your decision to make. And who knows? Maybe you and Malfoy will become very good friends. Stranger things have happened, and you’ve always been interested in him.”    
  
“Hermione!” Harry protested. “I am  not interested in Malfoy!”    
  
“Oh, Harry,” she replied, laughing. “I didn’t mean like that. But your vehement protest is certainly interesting. I’ve seen him around the Ministry, and I suppose he does look quite fit. That hair is certainly lovely.”    
  
Harry just knew that his face was a telling shade of red, but he shook his head. “You’re crazy, ‘Mione.”   
  
Hermione didn’t say anything, just smiled knowingly into her teacup. 


	11. Chapter 11

Fridays at Curiosities were always busy. They opened two hours earlier on Friday to try and tempt the people who were just getting off of work and needed to unwind, and it certainly worked. People poured into the bar as early as 5:30, still in their work clothes and clamoring for beers and cocktails. Harry was in his element then, serving the people who were sitting at the bar with smiles and chit chat, and sending a near constant stream of trays to their respective tables.   
  
Luna flitted back and forth, sending out trays of food and mingling with the patrons. She came up behind Harry as he was flipping a shaker up in the air and catching it, mixing alcohols together for a strong drink. “Anything interesting happen?” she asked in his ear.  
  
Harry poured the drink and slid it to a tired looking man down at the end of the bar. “It’s been days since you’ve asked me that,” he replied. “You’re losing your touch, Luna.”   
  
She smiled at him, shaking her head. “No, I’ve been letting it build up. Tell me.”   
  
With a grin, Harry grabbed a glass and filled it with ale. “Well, Malfoy was in here a few days ago, and we chatted, then we had lunch on Tuesday to catch up. We’re going to give being friends a try.”   
  
Luna’s smile turned smug. “I did tell you that was possible, didn’t I?”   
  
“Yes, yes, you did. No need to rub it in.”   
  
She didn’t say anything else, just smiled serenely at Harry and skipped back off to the back. Harry shook his head and returned to dealing with the crowd.  
  
By 10:00, the urgent crowd had thinned out, and Curiosities was filled with a more leisurely bunch. An upbeat song was playing through the bar, and Harry flipped bottles and glasses to the beat. He liked adding a bit of showmanship to his work; it made it more fun. He ducked down to gather a few shot glasses for a round ordered by table 11 and nearly dropped them when he popped back up to find himself face to face with Malfoy.  
  
In a dress.   
  
Harry swallowed hard and let his eyes roam appreciatively over the blond’s body. The dress was dark blue and made out of a shimmery fabric. It was form fitting, long sleeved, and cut short, and instead of making it apparent that the wearer was a male, it highlighted the natural curves of Malfoy’s willowy body. His hair was slightly wavy and one side of it was pinned back, showing off the silver studs. Silvery grey eyes were lined with kohl, and those smirking lips were painted a stunning shade of red. Harry decided that it was a mild glamour that made Malfoy’s face have more feminine angles than usual, and when he tilted his head just right, he could see the real him under it.   
  
Malfoy arched an eyebrow and smiled at Harry, sitting down on the stool in front of him. “I’m going to assume from your staring that I look nice.”   
  
“I....you...yes,” Harry managed to choke out, eyes wide. “Wow.” He hadn’t noticed it the first time he’d spoken to Malfoy in his women’s attire, but the blond spoke in light tones, keeping his voice husky. It made Harry man swallow and look down at the shots he was supposed to be filling.   
  
“So what brings you here?” he asked, trying to sound calm and collected.   
  
“Boredom mostly,” Malfoy answered. “Hence the dress. Besides, friends can visit each other at work. Can’t they?”   
  
Harry nodded. “Sure. Can I get you anything?”  
  
Silvery eyes locked on his face and their owner smirked again. “Surprise me.”   
  
“You’re going to regret saying that one day,” Harry warned.  
  
“If I didn’t after that Snakebite thing you made me last time, I doubt I will now.”   
  
Harry snorted. “Oh, you have no idea, Malfoy.” He loaded the tray with the shots and sent them off before grabbing a glass from over head. He chewed on his lower lip as he tried to decide what to serve Malfoy this time.   
  
“Don’t call me that,” the blond was saying.   
  
“Hm? Oh, sorry. I suppose you don’t want people to know it’s you.”   
  
“Well, that and...you always called me that when we were at school and you hated me.”   
  
A frown furrowed Harry’s brow as he turned his attention back to his new friend. “Are you asking me to call you by your first name?”  
  
Malfoy wrinkled his nose, but nodded. “If you can stomach it.”   
  
“Sure I can. You know, I feel the same way about the way you used to spit my last name like it was something disgusting.”   
  
“Very well,  _Harry_ ,” Malfoy -- Draco -- practically purred.  
  
The sultry sound of the blond’s voice sent a thrill through Harry’s body. It had been ages since anyone had said his name like that, and even if Malfoy was doing it in jest, he was still affected. He swallowed hard and reached for a bottle of vodka, measuring half a shot and pouring it into his shaker. “So, wait,” Harry said, curious. “What do you call yourself when you’re...like this?”   
  
“Simone,” Draco answered.   
  
“Fancy,” Harry returned with a grin. He added coconut rum, blueberry schnapps, Blue Curacao, orange and pineapple juice to the shaker and then tossed it in the air a few times.   
  
Draco followed it with his eyes. “That’s a lot of alcohol. You wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of an innocent lady, would you?”   
  
Harry snorted and strained the mixture into the glass. “Oh please,  _Simone_.  There is nothing innocent about you.” He topped off the glass with a little grenadine and clear soda before sliding it over to Draco and leaning against the wood of the bar.   
  
A blond eyebrow arched. “This drink is very blue,” he commented dryly.  
  
“So is your dress. Just drink it.”   
  
Draco rolled his eyes, but took a sip of the cocktail. He blinked and let out a low whistle. “ That  is alcoholic,” he said. “But quite good. What’s it called?”   
  
“The Dragon Slayer,” Harry answered with a grin.   
  
“You think you’re so funny.”   
  
“Mm, I do, a bit.”   
  
Draco shook his head and took another sip of the drink. He stayed in his spot at the bar until last call was announced and then walked out at three in the morning right before Harry’s shift ended.   
  
Harry yawned, raking his hands through his hair as he kissed Luna on the cheek and bid her farewell. He walked out into the cool September night air and was surprised to find Draco leaning against the side of the building. It was Harry’s first glimpse at the rest of Draco’s ensemble and he let out a whistle when he saw the tall heels that the blond was wearing.   
  
“See something you like?” Draco drawled. He’d had another drink, but looked steady enough on his feet.   
  
“Your shoes are ridiculously high,” Harry said.   
  
“These are one of my favorite pairs.”  
  
“As if you weren’t tall enough already.”   
  
Draco grinned. “You’re just short, Harry. Always have been.” He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “Well I won’t keep you; I’m sure you’re tired. I just wanted to say goodnight before I left.”  
  
“And avoid Luna.”   
  
“Yes, and that.”   
  
Harry smiled. “Good night. You know, it’s only been a few days, but I’m enjoying this friendship thing so far.”   
  
“I am too,” Draco agreed. “I’m for bed, then. I’ll owl you tomorrow. Or later today, I suppose.”   
  
“Sounds good. See you later. ” Harry waved as the blond walked to the nearest Apparition point to head home, and he couldn’t help but stare at the sway of Draco’s hips. 


	12. Chapter 12

_Harry,  
  
Mother has a function to attend on Sunday, so I will not be spending the day with her as I usually do. _ _  
  
This is your cue to invite me over for dinner or some such thing._ _  
  
Draco_ _  
_  
Harry snorted when he read the note that was delivered by Draco’s owl, Ares, at eleven that morning. He stroked the bird and summoned parchment and a quill to the kitchen table where he was sitting, penning a response.   
  
_Draco,  
  
I believe you just invited yourself, but yeah, come on over. Anything in particular you want to eat, Your Highness? And if you say ‘surprise me’ you’re getting take away._ _  
  
Harry_   
  
He tied the letter to the bird’s leg and sent it off with the remnants of his bacon sandwich. It had been a while since he’d cleaned his house, and he knew that Draco wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if his home wasn’t at least a little neat, so he spent some time dusting and doing laundry, looking up a few hours later when Ares was tapping on his sitting room window.   
_  
I’m allergic to almonds and my mother has been on a fish kick lately, so you’ll gain more points if you serve something else. I’ll be over around 6, perhaps earlier if I’ve nothing else to do. And stop giving Ares bacon. He’s better than that even if you aren’t._ _  
  
Draco_

 

Harry laughed and shook his head. He flicked his wand at the broom, sending it sweeping the hardwood floor before scribbling a short reply at the bottom of Draco’s letter.   
  
_Almond crusted fish fillets it is! Come over whenever. I don’t work on Sunday, so I’ll be home all day.  
  
H_   
  
Deciding that once he’d sent Ares off, he might as well go ahead and make this a day to get things done, he pulled his jacket on and went to go get some groceries in Muggle London. He preferred shopping there, since he got stared at a lot less. He filled his basket with the things that he’d need to make a thick and hearty beef stew and a salad, adding bread and a couple bottles of a nice red wine that probably would meet none of Malfoy’s standards.  
  
Agatha, the middle aged cashier that usually rang him up, grinned at him as she began scanning his purchases. “Having a dinner party, young man?” she asked. “A nice lady coming by perhaps?”   
  
Harry smiled at her and shook his head. “Just dinner with a friend, Aggie. He’s a bit on the posh side, so I thought I would do more than a fry up.”   
  
“You’re a good lad,” Agatha said, bagging his groceries. “I’m sure some nice young woman will eventually be stopped dead by your charms and will make an honest man out of you. It doesn’t do for you to be alone.”   
  
“Oh, Aggie,” Harry sighed dramatically, trying very hard not to think of Draco in the blue dress, and handing her the money for his things. “You know you’re the only nice young woman for me.”   
  
She blushed and flapped her hand at him. “Get on with you,” she chuckled. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” She handed him his change and receipt. “Have a good dinner, Harry.”   
  
Harry thanked her, tossing her a wink, and left the store, using a discrete lightening charm to make his bags of groceries less heavy and wondering if his charms with older women worked on snarky blond ex Death Eaters.


	13. Chapter 13

Sunday was a rainy day, which was more than common for London. Harry found that he liked wet, overcast days. They were somehow peaceful and filled him with a sense of tranquility that he’d never had when he was younger.    
  
He’d worked a long shift on Saturday night, and it was nearly noon when Harry woke up. He laid in his bed for a while, just listening to the quiet of his house. His feelings on his state of living alone changed with his mood. Most of the time he loved the peace and solitude that it afforded him, but occasionally he woke up and really wished that there were someone waking up next to him. Someone who meant something to him, not just someone he’d taken home. That had vastly contributed to the demise of his relationship with Ginny.    
  
Even at eighteen Harry had longed for domesticity, and that just wasn’t something that the fiery young Ginny had had an interest in. She’d had enough of that to last her for a while, and she wanted to go off and explore. And Harry could understand that; after all, they had lived very different lives. So, with his blessing, they had parted, and Ginny had gone on to play Quidditch.   
  
She was happy, and Harry was too for the most part. He loved his job and his alone time, and he had hope that everything else would fall into place eventually.    
  
With a sigh, Harry levered himself out of bed and went about getting started with the day. He showered and washed his hair, making some effort to try and get the unruly tufts to lay down. Eventually, he gave up and walked back into this bedroom to get dressed.    
  
He dithered over what to wear for an embarrassing length of time, pairing together different jumpers and shirts with the jeans he preferred to wear. Finally he scoffed at himself and threw on a soft, long sleeved shirt with his dark blue jeans. He rolled the sleeves up and went down to the kitchen to start the preparations for dinner, tying an apron on over his clothes.    
  
Wielding a sharp knife, he sliced thick chunks of beef, seasoning them and putting them in a pan to cook. He was cutting up carrots and potatoes when his floo chimed, indicating that someone wanted to talk or come through.   
  
Harry wiped his hands on a towel and flung it over his shoulder, going to see who it was. A glance at the clock told him it was probably still too early for it to be Draco, even though Harry had told him to come over whenever he wanted to.   
  
“Hello?” he said, and the flames resolved themselves into Ron’s face. “Oh, hey, Ron.”    
  
“Don’t you, ‘hey, Ron’ me!” the ginger said firmly. “I’m supposed to be your best mate, Harry.”    
  
“Er...you are,” Harry replied, confused. “What are you on about?”   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?”    
  
“Tell you what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”    
  
Ron scowled. “Coulter said that he saw you chatting up a certain blond lady all night at the bar on Friday,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”    
  
Harry assumed that Coulter was one of the Aurors Ron worked with, as many of them frequented Curiosities. He sighed, and shrugged. “It must have slipped my mind, Ron. I’m sorry. She came into the bar, and we just started talking. Nothing’s happening between us or anything.”    
  
“You sure?” Ron asked.   
  
“Yes, Ron, I’m sure. We were just talking. I would have told you if anything else had happened.”    
  
“Alright then. Sorry I overreacted. What are you doing today?”    
  
Harry fidgeted, knowing the true answer to that would just send Ron off again. “Well...er...Malfoy invited himself over for dinner...”   
  
“I hope you told him to fuck off.”   
  
“Actually...”    
  
Ron groaned. 


	14. Chapter 14

An hour later, the meat and vegetables were simmering in a pot of broth and Harry was humming as he hunted through his cupboards for the bag of rice he knew was in there somewhere.   
  
“Scarhead?” came Draco’s voice from the sitting room.  
  
“Come on through!” Harry called back, not even bothering to remove his head from a cupboard. “And I thought you were calling me Harry.”  
  
Draco walked into the kitchen brushing off his clothes. “Well isn’t  _this_ terribly domestic? And I said I’d stop calling you Potter, I made no promises about what else I would call you.”   
  
Harry rolled his eyes and then made a triumphant noise when he found the rice. He dropped it on the counter and turned. Draco was dressed like himself this time, and really it wasn’t fair that he looked so good no matter what he was wearing.   
  
Now the blond was dressed in light colored jeans and a black jumper with the sleeves pushed up. Harry blinked in surprise when he realized he could see several inches of Dark Mark on Draco’s pale forearm. He swallowed and decided that if he and Draco were going to be friends, they were just going to have to talk about the uncomfortable things. So he let his eyes raise to stormy grey ones.   
  
“I didn’t know you showed it,” he said, making a vague gesture.   
  
Draco looked away and shrugged. “I usually don’t, but I figured we both know I have it. I didn’t think it would bother you.”   
  
“It doesn’t,” Harry responded quickly. “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen one.”  
  
“Lucky you. I get to see mine every day.” He sighed and looked back at Harry finally. “I can put it away if you’d rather. I’m used to keeping it hidden what with working at the Ministry.”   
  
There was something weighty in his gaze, and Harry knew that this was a test. “It’s fine,” he said, sincerity in his tone.   
  
Draco gave him a smile then, something like relief flashing momentarily in his gaze. “So what are you making in here, Housewife Potter?” he asked.  
  
“Beef stew,” Harry replied. “I know it’s probably not up to your usual standards, but it’s hearty and warm.”   
  
Draco snorted. “You know nothing about my usual standards anymore, Harry Potter. I could have beef stew every night for all you know.”   
  
“ _Do_ you?”   
  
“Well...no,” Draco answered, nostrils flaring in annoyance. “But you’ve seen me at the Knut. I eat just like the rest of you poor heathens these days.”   
  
“Oh, Draco,” Harry said, pulling out a pot and filling it with water to boil the rice. “You always have had such a way with words.” He snickered and set the pot on his stove, letting the water heat.   
  
“Naturally. So, you live in the old Black house.”  
  
“Yeah, I inherited it from Sirius. He was your mother’s-”  
  
“Cousin, I know,” Draco interrupted. “I never met him, but I always hated this house. They all did according to my mother. Well except for dearly departed Auntie Bella. She loved it here, apparently.   
  
Harry shuddered. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been chucking Dark stuff for ages, and it’s still not completely safe. My godson was here, and he nearly got eaten by a toilet.”   
  
Draco chuckled, moving to lean against one of the counters. “Sounds about right. I didn’t know you had a godson. Surely if Granger and Weasley had spawned, I’d had heard about it.”   
  
“No, it’s...he’s Tonks and Remus’s son. Teddy. Also related to you.”   
  
“Tonks,” Draco furrowed his brow. “Andromeda’s daughter, yes?”   
  
“Yeah. Did you know her?”  
  
Draco shook his head. “Not exactly the kind of family member my father would have approved of.”  
  
“Oh. Right.” Harry dumped some rice in the water when it started to boil and bit his lip. “Draco...do you think we should just get it over with?”   
  
“Get  _what_ over with?”   
  
Harry made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Talking about it. The past, I mean.”   
  
“Oh,” Draco blinked and then sighed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I thought we were moving on or starting over. Or something.”   
  
“Well that’s what you said, but...”   
  
“Look, Harry, I know there’s quite a bit of shit between us: we were on opposite sides of a war, you cursed me, I stepped on your face, and on and on and on. But, really, what is poking at that going to achieve. I’d say it’s clear we’re over it. At least...I am.” He raised his eyebrow, giving Harry a probing look.   
  
“I have too!” Harry rushed to assure him. “I have.”  
  
Draco smiled slowly, and it made Harry’s stomach do funny things. “Then just drop it, alright? It’s not polite to force emotional conversations on your dinner guests.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Dinner, Harry thought, went well. Draco had eaten second helpings of beef stew and rice, declaring that Harry had clearly learned how to manage since their school years. That was good enough for Harry. After dinner, they retired to the sitting room with glasses of wine. Draco had kicked his shoes off, and tucked his socked feet under him on the couch, arching an eyebrow as if daring Harry to comment.   
  
Harry didn’t. He just raised his glass as if in a toast, and took a sip of the wine, savoring the heavy taste. The silence in the room was comfortable, but Harry had a question.   
  
“Who all knows?” he asked.  
  
Draco looked up, eyes intent. “About what?”   
  
“Simone,” Harry replied with a grin, taking another long sip from his wine glass.   
  
Draco snorted, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. “My mother,” he answered, voice soft. “You. Theodore Nott.”   
  
“Nott?” Harry thought for a moment, trying to remember the Slytherins who had hung round with Draco.   
  
“We weren’t particularly close at school,” Draco told him. “But he was in France when I was, so we sought out each other’s company. For nostalgia’s sake, I suppose. Or perhaps because Theo was terrible at French, so he was desperate for someone who would understand him. Either way, we got closer.”   
  
“How close?” The question was out of Harry’s mouth before he’d had time to think about it. He winced and waited for Draco’s inevitable  _that’s none of your business, Potter, honestly,_ but when he looked up and met those grey eyes, they were alight with amusement, and Draco was smirking.  
  
“I’ll tell you what, Scarhead,” he drawled, drinking some of the wine and licking his lips. “I’ll answer that question if you allow me a question of my own.”   
  
Harry nodded, surprised. “Sounds fair.”   
  
“I thought so. Theodore and I were lovers for a time,” Draco said smoothly, not taking his eyes away from Harry. “He...had a fetish, if you will, that ultimately lead to my penchant for strolling about in dresses. So. Quite close.”   
  
For some reason, Harry felt let down.  _Or jealous_ ,  his inner voice supplied, sounding very much like Hermione, much to his irritation. But really, hearing about how Nott had inspired Draco to start crossdressing and about how  _close_ they were didn’t make Harry happy. With an internal sigh, he brought his glass to his lips and focused back on Draco just in time to hear him ask his question.  
  
“Are you gay?”   
  
Harry choked on the small sip he had just taken. “ _What?_ Why would you ask that?”   
  
“Because I want to know,” Draco said, setting his now empty glass on the table and folding his arms. “A question for a question, remember? You didn’t put any limits on what I could ask.”   
  
“R-right.” Harry cleared his throat. “I’m not gay, actually. I like girls sometimes too.”   
  
“So you’re bisexual, then.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Draco smiled and tapped his wine stained lips. “Interesting.” 


	16. Chapter 16

“What does that even mean?” Harry asked the next night as he and Luna were getting Curiosities ready to open. He’d been asking that question since Malfoy had gone home the night before, and he was no closer to having an answer.   
  
Luna smiled at him, writing the specials on the board above Harry’s head with her wand. “I would imagine it means he’s interested in your sexuality, Harry. Do we have any potatoes?”   
  
Used to his friend’s quirks by now, Harry nodded. “Yeah, new crate full in the pantry. But  why would he be interested? Apparently he and Theodore Nott are ‘close’.”   
  
“That doesn’t mean that they are still seeing each other. You and Ginny are close, and you haven’t dated in years.”    
  
Harry had to admit that she had a point. “Why wouldn’t he just say so then? Why be so...vague about it?”    
  
“Because you let him,” Luna said, thrusting her wand into the knot of hair at the top of her head and heading to the kitchen.


	17. Chapter 17

The case that Ron and Draco were working on had apparently reached a critical point in the week that followed because Harry saw neither of his friends. He and Hermione had lunch twice that week, and each time she’d scrutinized him and asked if he was okay. Harry, not wanting to rehash the whole thing with Draco to another of his friends just yet, nodded and claimed he was not getting enough sleep. That was true enough. His periodic insomnia was at an irritating peak, his head filled with thoughts of Draco and Theodore Nott together. Since he wasn’t sleeping, he’d gotten quite a few potions brewed, and he rather thought Draco would have been proud of him. This of course led to more annoying mental images of the bewitching blond.   
  
On Thursday, a week a half since Harry had had Draco over for dinner, Harry was sitting in The Lucky Knut, staring down into his plate. Suddenly there was a polite cough, and he looked up and into the subtly made up face of Draco’s alter ego.   
  
“Dra...er...Simone. Hi,” he spluttered, cheeks going red.    
  
“Hello,” Draco said back, a smile quirking those red lips. “Do you mind if I join you?”    
  
Harry shook his head, heart hammering. After days of thinking about Draco, having him right there was a bit unnerving. Especially since, as usual, the blond looked amazing. October has just begun, and there was a chill in the air, and Draco had dressed for the weather in a deep purple, knee length sweater dress paired with a pair of black boots. His hair was loose around his face, and it had been tousled by the wind outside, making him look almost messy and utterly wonderful to Harry’s mind. When one white blond eyebrow arched, he realized that Draco was still waiting for an answer.    
  
“Oh. Yeah. Please do.”    
  
“Thank you.” Draco slid into the seat across from Harry’s and crossed his legs. “I can’t tell you how nice it feels to not be at the Ministry for once.”    
  
“I’ll bet,” Harry said with a smile, relaxing a bit. “I heard the case is pretty much solved now.”    
  
Draco nodded. “It’s as good as. Nothing else I can do, at any rate. Thank, Merlin.”    
  
“Tired?”    
  
“Very. Mostly of your friend Weasley.”    
  
“Just watch,” Harry teased. “One day you two are going to be best friends.”   
  
Draco rolled his eyes, but quirked his mouth in a smile. “I doubt that. So. I was thinking that a celebration should be had.”    
  
Harry cocked his head to the side. “Okay,” he said slowly.    
  
“I mean, I can finally go entire days without my eyes being assaulted by ginger hair and freckles. Truly, this is a wonderful occasion, and it should be commemorated, I think.”    
  
“If you say so.”    
  
“I do. Do you get any days off from making drinks for the masses?”    
  
“Just Sunday,” Harry answered. “I mean, I can request days off and Luna will fill in for me, but I don’t like to do that much because she just kind of makes whatever drinks she wants for people. Most of them she makes up.”    
  
That drew a chuckle from the blond. “Somehow I’m not surprised. Could you request Saturday off? I figure that since you’ve made me dinner and drinks, I should return the favor. It’s only good manners, after all.”    
  
Usually Harry wouldn’t have taken off on a weekend, but... He nodded. “Yeah. I should be able to do that.”   
  
Draco smiled brightly. “Brilliant. I’ll owl you my address tomorrow.” He got to his feet as gracefully as he’d sat down, ignoring the stares from the other patrons. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”    
  
Harry nodded weakly, and swallowed hard as Draco started to walk away. “Will Nott be there?” he asked before he could stop himself.   
  
Draco flipped his hair over his shoulder, turning back to look at Harry.. “He’s still in France,” he said, flashing another smile and practically sashaying out the door.


	18. Chapter 18

Luna, in her infinite kindness, easily agreed to let Harry have Saturday off. She listened with a bemused smile while Harry told her what Draco had said. “Definitely interested,” she’d said in a sing song voice before disappearing into the kitchen of Curiosities. 

Harry shook his head, taking his place behind the bar. “Anything’s possible, I guess,” he murmured, flicking his wand at the charmed sign in the window to make it flash “COME IN!”   
  
The first couple of hours went by quickly, with Harry making a steady stream of drinks and sending them to tables. At ten, he smiled when Hermione and Ron walked in and headed over to take seats at the bar.   
  
“Hey, you two,” he said with a grin, loading beers onto a tray before sending it on. “Here to celebrate?”   
  
Ron frowned, peering up at the specials menu. “How’d you know?”   
  
“I saw Draco earlier. He told me the case is as good as solved.”   
  
“It’s true,” Ron said, nodding. “As much as I hate to admit it, the ferrety git was a big help on this one.”  
  
Hermione shook her head at her fiance. “Honestly, Ron. Anyone would think you were still at school with the way you carry on.” She gave Harry a smile. “Things are going well with Malfoy then?”   
  
“Er...yeah,” Harry replied. “We’re getting on alright.”   
  
“Good. At least  some  people have grown up.”   
  
“Hey!” Ron protested. “I’ve grown up. I just spent the last ten days in close quarters with Malfoy and no one got hexed.”   
  
Hermione smiled, leaning in to kiss Ron on the cheek. “Yes, very good, dear. Harry, can I get a glass of wine, please? Elvish, if you have it.”   
  
“Of course we have it,” Harry said, pulling a glass down and grabbing a chilled bottle to pour from. “And for you, Ron?”   
  
“Just Firewhiskey’s fine.”   
  
“Coming right up.” Harry flipped the bottle over his head, catching it in his other hand before pouring the spirit into a glass for Ron and sliding both drinks across the bar.  
  
“Showing off, Harry?” Luna asked as she came out from the kitchen and leaned against the bar. “Oh, hello Ron, Hermione.”   
  
“I’m not showing off,” he protested, peering at his board and beginning to fill the order. “I like to think that people tip me because of my showmanship and skill, not because of who I am. If I’m going to think that, I may as well have showmanship and skill, right?”   
  
Ron snorted into his drink. “I think you’re just flaunting the fact that you finally gained some coordination.”   
  
Harry glared at his friend as he placed three butterbeers on a tray. “I’ve always been coordinated!” he replied indignantly. “You’ve seen me on a broom, right?”   
  
“Point,” Luna agreed with a smile. “Congratulations on your breakthrough with that case, Ron.”   
  
“Thanks. Let me guess, you heard it from Malfoy, too?”   
  
“No,” Luna replied, shaking her head. “From Harry, though  he heard it from Malfoy. I get lots of information now that Harry and Malfoy are interested in each other.”   
  
Both Ron and Hermione choked on their drinks at that, and Harry groaned, tapping the filled tray with his wand to send it off. “Thanks a lot, Luna,” he muttered.   
  
“You’re welcome,” she said brightly, snagging a bowl of lemons from the bar before heading back to the kitchen.  
  
Harry blushed and watched his friends regain their breath. Hermione sent Harry a look that clearly said ‘I told you so’, which he returned with a glare. Ron was rapidly turning red, and he knocked the rest of his drink back in one gulp. “You and Malfoy? Really, Harry?”   
  
“Nothing’s even happened!” Harry insisted.  
  
“But you want it to,” Hermione responded, and it was very much not a question.  
  
“I... maybe.”   
  
“Oh god, why?” Ron whined. “Isn’t it bad enough that I have to see the ferrety fucker at work? Now I have to see him socially, too?”   
  
Harry frowned. “Why would you have to see him socially?”  
  
“If he’s going to be my best mate’s  _boyfriend_ , ” he shuddered as if the word was horrible to think about. “Then I’m going to have to see him.”   
  
“Oh. Thanks, Ron,” Harry said, smiling softly. “Really, nothing’s happened, but... it might, and I’m glad you approve.”   
  
“I don’t approve,” Ron argued. “But you’ve got that stupid glowy smile on your face that you used to have about Gin, so I guess you like the git.”  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly at Harry, and he ducked his head, very aware that he was smiling like a loon. “Yeah. I like him.” It felt good to admit it out loud.


End file.
